


Beyond Heaven and Earth

by Wolven_Spirits



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Cultivation AU, Fluff and Humor, Harry is just too cute, M/M, Minor Angst, Possessive Tom, Reincarnation, Romance, Soulmates, but who wouldn't be, inspired by wuxia/xianxia, no prior knowledge necessary, plenty of shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Harry was a spirit deer. An animal that had cultivated human form. He was highly coveted for the benefits his corpse could bring to those who consumed it.Good thing he had a handsome, red-eyed man to help drive away any hunters.At first it seemed to be simply an enjoyable companionship, but it eventually became clear that something greater tied them together. Invisible strings that reached beyond heaven and earth.It was a blessing and a danger, and only if they embraced it could they overcome the shadows that lurked in their steps.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Other Minor Relationships
Comments: 76
Kudos: 497
Collections: Harry Potter





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luxis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxis/gifts).



> For dearest sunflower Ava. This is long overdue. 
> 
> With special thanks to Chu and Mik for helping me with so many details, and to Ferm for cheerleading.
> 
> To all readers:
> 
> This fic will be a casual blend of Chinese cultivation (xianxia) and HP/western fantasy. No prior knowledge of cultivation world building should be required, as I aim to include all the necessary information in the fic itself or in the chapter notes. If you are interested in learning more about Wuxia/Xianxia, I recommend starting with [his blog](https://immortalmountain.wordpress.com/glossary/wuxia-xianxia-xuanhuan-terms/).
> 
> To avoid confusion, I will not be using complex forms of Chinese address, though I will include some formalities of hierarchy (including titles of ‘elder sister/brother’ etc). 
> 
> Notes for this chapter:
> 
> -Cultivators ‘cultivate’ to create a golden core. They can use spiritual energy/power in a way that is similar to magic. There are many steps to creating a core, and steps to increasing the core. Once they have achieved the highest level of cultivation, they can ascend to the heavens, but of course achieving this is not easy at all.

Harry’s lungs screamed with each heaving breath he took. Every muscle in his body was in smouldering pain, but he couldn’t stop. Not when death was nipping at his heels.

Thin branches whipped his skin as he ducked through the trees, their clawed ends scoring into his flesh. His body laboured from the strain of running for so many days on end, unable to rest for more than a few moments before his pursuers began to catch up. He had used up almost all of his remaining spiritual power the day before, knocking away a rain of arrows that chased him across a large meadow.

He was weak, and he could hear the bone rattle of death in each breath he took. Blood stained the hoof marks he left, his body exhausted from the strain, his hind leg wounded from the swipe of a sword he hadn’t had the power to dodge.

Still, he refused to submit. Refused to allow these hunters to capture him. Refused to let them desecrate his corpse. He knew they would kill him if they caught him. Skin him, cut off his antlers, devour his flesh to become stronger. A shudder ran through his body and he lowered his head as he stumbled blindly through the bushes, leaves rustling loudly, giving away his position once more. He blinked blood out of his eyes, but could not get rid of the darkness that encroached along the edges of his vision.

No longer did he have the ability to carefully choose his path. Now all he could do was drive himself forward in desperation, one step after another, in order to stay ahead of the hunters.

The wound on his leg burned, blood flowing as each motion jarred the gash wider. His fur was filthy and matted, darkened to a dull, dark brown and missing in patches were he had been wounded. Considering the circumstances, though, Harry preferred the way his darkened fur had helped him blend in with the trees, evading notice more than once. His hooves were near silent as he sprang up over a fallen log, but he stumbled upon landing, his leg buckling as his wound was strained by the agile motion. Precious seconds were lost and he forced himself forward, his hooves digging into the damp earth with ruthless determination.

His mouth hung open and his nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, the whites of his eyes prominent against his darkened fur. His antlers, black as a starless night, were stained brown with blood, and some of it had dripped onto his forehead, obscuring the mark between his eyes. Strips of cloth dangled from the sharp ends of his antlers, streaming like flags behind him.

Gnashing his teeth, Harry dove between two trees. Despite his wound, he was nimble and he knew well how to navigate forests. He strong, young stag, having already cultivated a golden core. Against one or even two cultivators, he could stand his ground and gore them upon his mighty antlers even if they were stronger than he was. But against ten of them, Harry could only flee and hope to lose them in the dense growths of this old forest.

Harry knew he should have been more vigilant when around humans. Shouldn’t have let himself be seen. But the festival in the town he had been passing by had been all too tempting. The glowing red lanterns, the kites in the sky, the fireworks, the tantalizing smell of food… Harry hadn’t been able to help but want to get closer. To watch the smiling humans, listen to their shouts and laughter. Among the walls of the town, there was so much life, vibrant in a manner so different from the forests Harry knew. And Harry had just been so _curious_.

And now, of course, he regretted it. He should have known there would be cultivators around. Should have known they would be all too happy to leave a festival to hunt him down. After all, the corpse of a spiritual beast was worth a fortune.

Voices rang in the distance and cold despair rose within Harry’s heart. He was tired. He had been running for so long. Had used up all his tricks in order to evade them and erase his trail. But no matter what he did, they always found him, a blood-fed compass allowing them to track him through the mountains and beyond.

The sound of an arrow whistled towards him and he jerked to the left, letting it shoot past him and sail harmlessly into the bushes. One of his pursuers cursed and another arrow was fired, forcing Harry further to the left. It hit the trunk of a tree ahead of him and exploded in a shower of fiery splinters.

Harry reared in surprise, a bellow escaping him as he kicked out his hooves in defense, his spiritual power flickering weakly in an attempt to shield him from the burning embers that flew towards him.

He lowered back to the ground, and cried out as pain shot through his neck. He was jerked backwards, his neck twisting, his antlers caught in the clawed branches of the tree next to him. He staggered on his hind legs, dirty flying as he kicked furiously. His muscles strained but still he was unable to break free. Without full leverage of his four legs, he could only hang helplessly, his body weak, his injured leg buckling, his eyes rolling as the shouts neared.

Laughter followed.

“We got him! Look at him, stuck helpless.”

“Don’t get cocky, he escaped before, he could do it again.”

“Not this time. This time he’s ours.”

Dark chuckles resounded.

“Circle around him. Make sure he has nowhere to escape to.”

“Pathetic last moments.”

“Doesn’t matter how he dies. Just so long as I get my share. I’ve been at a bottleneck for the past two hundred years. All I need is a bite…”

“If all you need is a bite — “

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll be taking my full share.”

Harry struggled, panic welling as he fought for freedom, but he didn’t have enough energy. The last of his spiritual power had been used to defend against the explosion. All he could do now was kick helplessly. The tree groaned under his weight, the branches cracking under his onslaught of desperation.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the end. He wasn’t… he wasn’t ready to leave the mortal plane. He hadn’t found _it_ yet.

Rage flew through him, marring his soul like an iron brand. This wouldn’t be the end. He wouldn’t leave, even after they killed him. He would remain here, turn into a vengeful ghost, and haunt them forever. He knew well their faces. Had imprinted their scents. He wouldn’t — he wouldn’t let a single one of them go.

Blood dripped from his eyes as the hunters strolled closer, circling to the right, their weapons gleaming, winking death.

Harry opened his mouth and bellowed, his fury, his helplessness, his sorrow, all echoing through the woods. A dark shadow festered. _I curse you_ , he raged. _The pain of a thousand deaths would not be enough to soothe my fury_.

Then he fell limp, no longer able to move, his body giving out at the final moment. What a shame, his eyelids lowered tiredly, hiding the reddened tint that flashed across his eyes. He wished he could fight them one last time. But if this was the way his life was to end, he would ensure that he got his revenge.

There was a silver glint of sword, followed by impatient urging. The sounds blurred as exhaustion sunk into his bones, his senses beginning to slumber. Still, he was startled when the voices fell silent and the sword did not strike. There was a faint smell of smoke and silk. A hush fell. Harry couldn’t help but open his eyes.

From the left came a step. It was quiet, no more than a whisper. Silver and green cloth slowly emerged from between the trees, stark against the shadows of the forest. A tall figure moved forward and Harry wondered if the hunting party had set up an ambush, leading him right into the hands of this man.

His vision blurred. He supposed it no longer mattered. Tired green eyes met red and Harry wondered idly, as time seemed to slow, why he did not hate this man. Why he felt strangely relieved. Did he no longer fear death? Perhaps. Or perhaps it was because he knew that this was not truly the end. Not quite yet. Not until he had taken his revenge.

Darkness converged and the world was muffled.

In the distance he heard shouting. There was a scream, but Harry had no time to ponder it, as all went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry: A stranger! Must be wary!
> 
> …
> 
> No wait, a handsome stranger. Well, that’s alright then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ava ILY you incredible person and beautiful soul!
> 
> Summary of terms: 
> 
> Dantian is where Qi/spiritual power is stored. 
> 
> Meridians are like blood vessels that Qi flows through
> 
> [Here](https://0.soompi.io/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/02104233/untamed_banner_2.jpg) is an example of some cultivator outfits. The headpiece is called a crown.

Harry woke slowly, remnants of fury obscuring his awareness like a dark haze. His body hurt, but he was not sure why. Was he not dead? Was he not a spirit, chained in this realm to take revenge? He inhaled slowly, confirming that he was alive. That his soul was tied down by the living burden of flesh and blood. There was a residual burn with each breath, a lingering reminder of his encounter with death.

But he couldn’t hear the hunters anymore. The forest was full of song and sound, lacking the cruel stench of the rogue cultivators. The darkness began to dissipate. Part of him relaxed, and part of him felt even more alert. Because those cultivators had no intention of letting him go. What in the world, then, had made them stop?

His eyelids fluttered open and he tried to shift his body, but it was too heavy. Exhaustion had woven itself into his bones, and his wound protested at the mere thought of moving. He let out a sharp exhale, slightly afraid of what he might see if he could lift his head. Had they simply chosen to wait to kill him? Had they handed him off to someone else? Was he waking up only to meet his death? Vaguely he remembered the sound of screams before he fell unconscious, but everything else was a blur.

Harry waited until his vision adjusted to the bright daylight before opening his eyes fully. From where he lay he could only see bushes to his left and — silver and green robes that shifted to his right, fluttering as the tall man approached him. A cold fear lingered.

Harry eyed the cultivator, his heart rate increasing. He gave a nervous exhale. He could smell smoke and silk and the faint scent of blood. It was almost familiar.

The sword strapped to the man’s side was all too conspicuous. Harry’s legs twitched, but it only resulted in a jolt of pain. He stared with wide eyes. He could not tell what stage of cultivation the man was, which meant that either the man had no cultivation, or he was far more powerful than Harry. It was obvious which it was. Besides, in his pathetic state, even if the man had no cultivation, Harry stood no chance against him. Harry almost wanted to laugh. What was with this luck of his?

Soft robes swished over fallen leaves as the cultivator approached. Harry’s eyes trailed upwards. The man was handsome. Unfairly so. Damn these immortal cultivators, Harry cursed silently. Why were so many of them so beautiful?

This cultivator had a strong jawline and sharp cheekbones. His eyes were narrow and deep set, his nose sharp. His skin was pale and smooth, contrasting with the deep brown waves of his hair. Half of the strands were loosely pulled upwards and secured in a simple crown, the rest flowing over his shoulders. The expression upon his face was cold, as if detached from the world, and only the burning of his red eyes betrayed his aloof manner.

_Are you going to kill me_? Harry wanted to ask, but he could not move. Could not even consider the possibility of shifting into a human form. All he could do was stare into those red eyes and wonder why they made him feel at peace. As if this man could kill him and Harry would not mind.

The man reached into his wide sleeve and pulled out two bottles. He opened one of them and approached Harry. He knelt gracefully and tapped a white powdered substance onto Harry’s wounds. Medicine, Harry realized. But why?

Then the man opened the second bottle and took out a pill. After placing the bottles away, he used his free hand to pry open Harry’s jaw and place the pill inside his mouth. Then he pressed Harry’s jaw firmly shut. Not that Harry had the strength to resist.

The pill tasted horrid and Harry immediately wished he could spit it out. But a few moments later he felt a trickle of spiritual power returning and he stared wide-eyed at the man. Because if the man wished to kill him and devour him to become stronger, why would he give Harry the chance to recover?

Harry eyed the cultivator, but sensing no ill intent, allowed himself to focus on recovering his spiritual strength. It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice, anyway. He couldn’t move. He was already at the mercy of this stranger. But if he could recover his spiritual strength, then perhaps he would have the energy to flee if needed.

The thought brought a small ache to his heart. He was tired of running. But he… he needed to live, still. Wanted to live. He wouldn’t give in to death so easily. Not when he hadn’t found _it_ yet.

Finally he closed his eyes, falling into a meditative trance, circling his spiritual power through his body as he absorbed more and more through the pill, filling his dantian and repairing his strained meridians. His awareness of the world faded and how long he lay there, absorbing spiritual energy and repairing his body, he did not know.

It was light out when he next opened his eyes. He shifted and was delighted when his body obeyed him, his legs gathering beneath him as he rolled over. He was a little sore still, but he could _move_. His muscles trembled and he shook his head delightedly.

He glanced around before looking down when he did not feel the cool earth beneath his body. He stared for a moment at the low, jade bed he was on. He could remember seeing groups of humans exclaiming over small jade tokens, lamenting the amount of silver a small piece would cost. A piece of jade as large as this… Harry was not quite sure why the man had let Harry anywhere near it.

Turning away with a _whuff_ , he pushed himself onto his feet. His legs trembled for a few moments as he steadied himself. His wounds had scabbed over nicely, his spiritual power was almost fully replenished, and once it was fully recovered it wouldn’t take much longer to finish healing.

He shook himself and looked around. He was in a small clearing, void of everything except for himself and the bed. The immortal cultivator was not there, and Harry wondered if the man had left. Likely not, if the bed was still here. He felt a little flustered at the thought of meeting the man again, this time properly able to communicate. He would have to thank the man for saving him. His heart beat rapidly and he shook his head.

First things first, though…

Heavens above did he want a bath. His fur felt heavy, caked in dirt and blood and bits of bush. It itched, and he wished desperately to be clean.

His large ears pricked, swivelling as he reached out his senses. His head perked up as he heard the sound of water running not too far away. He took a few steps and paused, still alert, but could not sense any of the hunters that had been pursuing him. Perhaps the cultivator had scared them off? Harry hoped never to encounter them again, though if he did, he would be sure to give them all a kick in the teeth.

He lowered his head and snorted, stamping his foot as he shook his antlers, remnants of darkness flashing across his eyes. See if he’d let them even consider hunting him down again! He’d stick them with his antlers before the thought even fully formed!

Feeling a little better, Harry lifted his head and walked slowly towards the stream. The sun shone through the trees and a few birds flitted past his ear. His steps were light, near silent despite the crisp fallen leaves and rustling bushes. He was still a little tense, but was far from the terrified wreck he’d been for the past few days, hunted to the end of his strength and life.

He soon reached the stream and immediately stepped into the water. Cool water rushed against him. He felt the last of the dark haze fade as he listened to the burbling water. It was not particularly deep, though it was fairly wide. He lowered his head and took a few sips to soothe his sore throat. He was far along enough in his cultivation that he did not truly need to eat or drink anymore, but he still enjoyed it when he had the opportunity.

Then he knelt down and let the water stream over his legs and his stomach, washing away the dirt and grime. He wiggled a little, wanting to make sure all of it was rubbed off. The small mossy pebbles in the river clinked below him as he moved, helping rub off the grime. Then he flopped onto his side with a pleased sigh, the water soothing upon his tired body. His wound throbbed a little but did not protest too much, so he rolled around to his other side, kicking his limbs and making sure to splash his back as much as possible. Then he dunked his head under and swished it around. He returned to the surface with a gasp of air, clear water flying into the air as he shook his head.

He glanced back at his body and was pleased to see that it was back to its original, pure white. He stood with a slightly reluctant sigh. He had rather enjoyed his bath, but he didn’t want to be gone too long in case the cultivator returned to the clearing. Stretching a little, he shook himself off and turned, only to jerk back in surprise as he met cold, red eyes. The immortal cultivator stared at him, and a moment of silence passed between them. Then the man turned and walked back to their encampment.

Harry’s brain was blank. If he could blush, his whole body would be bright red. How much had the man seen? Had he seen Harry rolling around, flailing his limbs about like a newborn fawn? Surely he would have said something instead of letting Harry make an absolute fool of himself.

…

Right?

His head lowered, he followed the man back. He at least had to thank him before fleeing in mortification.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Bath time! Yay!
> 
> Tom: … so cute


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom: I want your body as payment for saving your life
> 
> Harry: Okay! I will be your sword and shield!
> 
> Tom: ……

Harry kept his head down as he followed the immortal cultivator back to the camp. Questions kept circling around in his head, tempting him to switch to his human form so that he could talk. He wanted to know — what was this man’s name? Why did he save him? If not his corpse, what did he want?

But each time his courage grew, he’d remember the way he’d kicked his legs, rolling around like a fool, and he’d decide that it wasn’t worth the embarrassment. In fact, maybe he should pretend to be dumb?

Sneaking a peek at the cultivator, he noticed that the hem of his robes were wet. He must have crossed the river, shortly before, which meant —

_Ahh,_ Harry wailed internally, mortification crashing through him. _He totally saw_.

He ducked his head back down and pretended not to notice.

They reached the camp shortly and he dithered a little at the edge of the small clearing where the jade bed was still lying. The man pulled out a matching table and chair from his storage ring and sat down, placing some plants on the gleaming surface. They were fresh, and Harry could recognize most of them. Spiritual grass, yellow core flowers, even some crystal berries, all of which would return Harry to full health and strength if he ate them!

He stared wide-eyed at the man. It couldn’t be. Was this… was this for him? The man had been unreasonably generous with him before, feeding him such a powerful pill and using medicine on his wounds. He couldn’t sense any hostility, but a faint uncertainty lingered. Was this some kind of trick?

The cultivator leaned against the table, his head resting upon his fist as he watched Harry almost lazily. His silver and green robes draped elegantly over his frame, the long sleeves fluttering, the wide collar tucked into a thick layered belt that wrapped around his waist. He looked beautiful, and that made Harry all the warier.

Harry pawed a little at the ground, eyeing the plants. The man waved a hand in an elegant motion, motioning for Harry to take them. He acted as if he was throwing away a few weeds. Harry had wandered through many forests, and knew just how difficult it was to find such plants. Against his better judgment, something a little soft fluttered within his heart.

He took a few steps forward until he was just shy of the table. He watched the man carefully and snorted, a quick, uncertain exhale.

Lidded eyes returned his gaze. Then pale lips parted. “If I wanted you dead,” the man said in a smooth, cold voice, “I would have killed you long ago. Or left you to the hunters.” He gave a small motion with his fingers. “Eat.”

The command sounded, and Harry found himself obeying almost automatically, as if he had done so a thousand times before. A strange look crossed the man’s face for just a moment, but it was smoothed away a moment later, and Harry gave it little thought as he munched on the plants. They were rich in spiritual energy, and he could feel it filling his body with each bite.

He made sure to circulate it properly, not letting any of it go to waste. He was painfully aware of the man’s gaze upon him, but he ignored it as he replenished the rest of his spiritual power until his dantian were full. Perhaps he was being rude, but he wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste! He circled spiritual energy through his meridians, making sure that there was no remnant damage from the stress he’d placed on himself while being hunted.

Harry was rather lucky, in fact, that he hadn’t shattered his own cultivation, considering how much he’d strained his body, using up every last bit of spiritual power and forcing himself beyond his limits.

The fact that he was almost fully healed, now, made him want to jump in relief. He didn’t, though, in order to preserve his remaining dignity.

Opening his eyes, Harry stared at the immortal cultivator with gratitude. The man was cold and distant and certainly powerful enough to eradicate Harry without even blinking, but Harry no longer felt any fear. The man had encountered him when he was at his weakest, and had healed him. Harry owed him his life.

Green eyes stared into red as Harry did his best to convey his sincerity without words. Then he dipped his head low. He didn’t know how to repay the man, but whatever he asked for, Harry would give it.

The cultivator gave a low hum of acknowledgement, his head still propped on his hand as he watched. “It’s rare to see antlers like yours,” he said a little idly, his eyes tracing the gleaming black antlers that protruded from Harry’s head — two large ones that curved majestically, each of the points as sharp as a dagger. Two smaller ones grew in front, curving forward rather than outwards. They were much smaller but they had gored more than one hunter in Harry’s lifetime.

Harry lifted his head a little proudly, not turning to hide even when the man’s gaze fell to the symbol that darkened the fur on his forehead — the lightning bolt mark that he’d been born with.

“Curious,” the man murmured.

Harry tilted his head to the side, but the man said nothing more. He stared at Harry for a moment longer, looking away only when Harry began to shift on the spot. He stood, no expression touching his face as he put away the jade furniture. The storage ring on his finger gleamed, the dark stone large and the metal ornately crafted. Harry didn’t have a whole lot of contact with humans, but he could easily tell that it was expensive.

Who was this man?

Originally Harry had thought that he was perhaps a wandering cultivator, for he had no symbols upon his clothes — nothing to identify which sect he might belong to. But wandering cultivators tended to be poor, with few resources to back them. But this man was powerful, knowledgeable, and obviously wealthy.

Harry couldn’t help but be curious. He knew that his curiosity tended to get him into trouble — wandering curiously into the village festival was what had gotten him hunted down, after all, but for some reason Harry couldn’t resist watching the man’s every motion. Each one was concise and beautiful, no gesture wasted, no movement unplanned. It was like watching a dance, and Harry was captivated.

All too soon the man was stepping away, a nod and a lingering glance thrown Harry’s way before turning around, his figure tall and imposing against the streaming sun. Harry wasn’t quite sure why, but for a moment the man looked… lonely.

It was as if the thought pierced straight to Harry’s soul. His breath hitched as a strange sense of sorrow overwhelmed him. The man took a step away and Harry felt a jolt of fear run through him. What if he never saw this man again? He barely knew him, and yet it was as if the man had plucked the strings of his very soul.

Harry moved without even thinking. His form shrank, four legs turning into two, sharp hooves turning into small, gentle hands that grasped at the man’s robes.

“Wait!” He cried out, his fingers winding through the soft material of the man’s sleeve. He pulled back with his weight, his eyes wide as he stared up.

The man turned to him, only the slight wrinkling of his brow belying his surprise. “You…” the man said before pausing, staring down at Harry. A flash of expression crossed his face too quickly for Harry to identify.

He was silent for so long that Harry wondered if he’d angered the man. If he would sweep him away with a wave of his arm and disappear. For a moment Harry hesitated, his grip tightening even as his confidence faltered.

Then the man spoke again. “You’re naked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: What does naked mean?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cultivators can fly on their swords. Kind of like standing on a broomstick.

Harry smoothed down the soft material of his new robes with a pleased smile. It was a soft sage green, and had subtle golden stitching along the collar. The sleeves were too long and fell over his fingers, but Harry didn’t mind, and he simply cut a few inches off the bottom so that it wouldn’t trip him while he was walking.

“Thank you,” he beamed at the man. He had scavenged robes before, but they were not half as soft or comfortable as these ones. He felt a bit like a bird with the long flowing sleeves, as if he had grown wings. He wondered if he could fly like this.

“They’re old robes,” the cultivator replied dismissively. “I had no use for them.”

“Still,” Harry insisted. “You already saved me. You didn’t need to give me clothes as well.” He fidgeted for a moment, then, “I’m Harry, by the way.”

The cultivator paused, as if preoccupied by a thought. “Tom,” he finally replied. He seemed a little pleased.

_Tom_ , Harry mouthed the name curiously, tapping his finger to his lips. It felt nice to say. He wasn’t quite sure why it felt so familiar, but he decided that he liked it. He wanted to repeat the name over and over again. Taking a quick look at Tom’s cold face, though, Harry decided not to push his luck. Especially if he wanted the man to like him.

Noticing that Tom was still watching him, Harry quickly put his hand down and smiled innocently. “You saved my life, so I owe you.” He nibbled on his lip a little nervously. “How… how do you wish for me to repay my debt?”

A strange expression flitted across Tom’s face.

Not wanting to give Tom the chance to reject his offer, Harry continued. “I don’t have any money or treasures, but I’m actually pretty strong! Well, not as strong as you are, of course, but I’ve cultivated quite a bit. And I’m good at healing. Oh, and I can craft some pretty strong items. It’s alright if you can’t think of anything right now,” Harry reassured the cultivator. “If I stay with you, I’m sure you’ll think of something you’ll need. Or maybe I’ll save your life in return! Er — not that I’m trying to curse you or anything!” He gave his most innocent smile to sweep away his words.

Tom arched a brow as he stared down at Harry. Then he turned with a flap of his long sleeve. “Very well,” he said.

And that was that.

Harry smiled so hard his face began to hurt, but he just couldn’t stop. He had never had a traveling companion before! He had met many creatures on his wanders. Some had duelled him, some had become friends. Others still had taught him. But none had stayed with him.

He watched in awe as Tom drew his sword, the clear blade touched with frost and sparks of light. The air around them cooled and Harry shivered a little, but Tom’s hand was warm around his as Harry was pulled up behind him to stand upon the floating sword. Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist without even thinking and leaned close, the warmth of Tom’s body drawing him in. Like this, he decided, he didn’t care if the journey took them months.

The sword rose with the two of them balanced upon the blade, and once they were past the reach of the trees, quickly began heading south.

Since neither of them needed to eat or sleep, they were able to travel quite a ways without getting tired. Harry decided quite quickly that he loved flying. This high up in the air, he felt as if there was nothing to limit him. Nothing that could cage him. And in the end he was rather disappointed when they descended on the outskirts of a large city.

Harry did his best not to look too disappointed as he stepped off the sword, though Tom must have seen something, for a gentle touch whispered across Harry’s shoulder.

“We will not stay here for too long,” Tom said.

Harry nodded. “It’s fine,” he said, not wanting Tom to change his plans just for his sake. For a moment it looked as if Tom might smile, but then the man’s gaze traveled up to Harry’s hair.

“Put away your antlers,” Tom said with a slight frown.

Blinking, Harry reached up and felt them sticking up from his hair. He blushed. He didn’t use his human form too often, so he didn’t have the best control of it yet. When he was excited, sometimes a few of his animal characteristics popped out. In fact, that was what had given him away the last time he had wandered through a human town.

He patted his head, making sure that the antlers were gone, then followed Tom down the road towards the city.

“Stay close,” Tom said, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “It’s easy to get lost.”

Tom was warm, so Harry had no problem shuffling a little closer. “Alright,” he said as he glanced around curiously. He craned his neck around as they passed through the gates, his eyes tracing the impressive architecture and heavy doors guarded by armoured soldiers.

A shout drew his attention and he looked up the street to see a row of vendors, each one advertising their wares. Perking up, Harry walked forward excitedly. Feeling resistance from Tom, Harry pulled at his arm, tugging him towards the lively stalls.

The towns that Harry had visited sometimes had markets in place, but the wares were of lower quality. Here in such a big city, these vendors did their utmost to attract rich patrons, showing off gleaming jewels and silk cloth and fierce-looking weapons.

“I’d love to have a sword like yours,” Harry says, eyeing the blades longingly.

“Is the young master looking for a weapon?” The merchant rubbed his hands and eyed the rich embroidery of Harry’s clothes.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t have any money,” he replied honestly.

The merchant faltered, then turned his expectant gaze onto Tom.

“These weapons would not survive your level of cultivation,” Tom pulled Harry away from the stall without even looking at the merchant. “It is better to have one specially crafted.”

Harry blinked. “I can’t craft swords,” he said with a small frown.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom said, pulling Harry close as they wove through the crowd.

Harry ducked his head, not quite sure why he was feeling a little flustered. He desperately searched for a way to change the subject. “Hey Tom,” he said after a few moments.

“Hm?”

“Why are we heading South?”

Tom was silent for a while. Then, “I’m searching for something.”

“Oh,” Harry tilted his head upwards to glance at his companion. “What are you looking for?”

“I…” Tom’s brow furrowed. His lips thinned. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: I’m yours now no take backs


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: 
> 
> “Why are we heading South?”
> 
> Tom was silent for a while. Then, “I’m searching for something.”
> 
> “Oh,” Harry tilted his head upwards to glance at his companion. “What are you looking for?”
> 
> “I…” Tom’s brow furrowed. His lips thinned. “I don’t know.”

Harry wasn’t sure why his heart ached a little at Tom’s words. Perhaps it was the flash of uncertainty and longing in the man’s eyes. Perhaps it was the way the man’s fingers tightened unconsciously on Harry’s shoulder, as if to make sure that Harry was real. Tangible.

A moment later, though, the man returned to normal, his gaze cooling, his posture relaxing as if nothing had been said. An effortless mask, well-practiced.

_But who doesn’t even know what they’re even looking for_? Harry glanced down, wanting to ask, but not daring to. He followed Tom silently as they walked past stalls and small shops. He couldn’t quite summon his usual curiosity despite spotting many strange items. Instead he found himself constantly glancing up at his companion, wishing he could soothe away the man’s problems.

The silence between them stretched until they paused in front of one of the shops. Large swaths of brightly coloured silks fluttered around the doorway, making an attractive display. Inside they met a tailor whose eyes gleamed at the prospect of outfitting Harry.

It was akin to an explosion of cloth as samples were draped across his chest and matched to his skin tone, his hair, his eyes —

“Perhaps a nice, bold red?” The tailor suggested, a swath of shimmering silk in his hands.

Harry blinked.

“No red,” said Tom, a slight curl to his lip.

“Gold goes well with his skin tone,” the tailor handed the cloth to his assistant and picked another one without missing a beat.

“Acceptable.”

“Perhaps some white to brighten the outfit? But keep the green as well.”

Tom nodded.

Harry’s arms were beginning to get tired, held out at his sides.

The tailor measured his waist and it tickled a little. “Undergarments?”

“Silk.”

“How many?”

“Seven of everything.”

“Er — “ Harry shifted.

“Don’t move,” the tailor scolded.

“I don’t have any money, though,” Harry said.

“And two pairs of shoes,” Tom added.

“Shoes?” Harry wrinkled his nose in disapproval. “Do I have to?”

“White or black?”

“White,” Tom decided.

“They’re just gonna get dirty,” Harry grumbled, though as he eyed Tom’s outfit, he noted that it was perfectly clean with not even a hint of dirt marring the cloth. He then glanced down at his own clothes. They were… also clean. His brow wrinkled a little. How was that even possible?

Tom glanced at him briefly. “These _will_ stay clean.”

Wait, was that a threat?

Harry made a face the moment Tom turned away, hunching his shoulders and letting his arms fall. At least until the tailor rapped him on the back impatiently.

In the end Tom ordered multiple sets of robes and they were told to return in a few days to pick them up. Harry followed Tom out of the shop and into the bustling street. No matter how crowded it was, though, people seemed to unconsciously part and make way for Tom. Many of them blushed while looking at his face. Others whispered excitedly of sword immortals.

Harry stared up at Tom’s back, watching the graceful sway of motion as he walked. The light cloth of his robes drifted in the breeze, the man’s long, dark hair flowing in elegant waves down his back, and for a moment Harry thought he was looking at a painting, each stroke a moment in time, soft and flowing with infinite grace. Harry reached out a hand, but paused a breath away from touching, fearing he might mar the beauty of such a portrait.

Pulling back his hand, Harry lowered his head and instead followed his footsteps, so lost in thought that he bumped into Tom when the man stopped walking. Rubbing his nose, he glanced up in confusion.

They were standing in front of a rather impressive looking inn. It was lined with glowing red lanterns and Harry could smell the scent of cooked food coming from inside. There were carved stone guardians out front and long banners with flowing calligraphy and fluttering tassels. Through the open doors, Harry could see the glimmer of gold decorations and the lustrous shine of jade carvings.

Harry was a deer. He was not overly familiar with the concept of wealth. But he had observed enough to know that in human society, there was a large difference between those who had money, and those who didn’t. Harry felt himself droop a little. He didn’t have even a single copper on him.

He tugged on his companion’s sleeve. “Tom, I can stay in the forest for the night…”

Tom glanced down at him, a frown wrinkling his brow. He glanced away again, his arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders as he pulled him along. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

Harry ducked his head, not quite sure why he suddenly felt so warm, as if it was his heart that was being squeezed instead of his shoulders.

“Master cultivators,” the inkeep bowed as they entered. “How may I serve you today? We have special rooms for cultivators such as yourselves,” the man’s eyes swept across the rich cloth and intricate brocade of their clothes. “Quiet and very suitable for your needs, with hot water available for bathing if desired. Our inn is the most popular in the city among cultivators, especially those from the Beauxbatons Sect.” The inkeep rubbed his hands together with a flattering smile.

Harry glanced up at Tom curiously. Was that Tom’s sect?

But Tom’s expression did not change. “A room for two nights.”

“Very good, Master cultivator. Would you like to have food sent up as well?”

Harry perked up.

“No need,” Tom said.

Harry deflated.

Tom glanced down at him and seemed to give a small exhale. “We will dine downstairs.”

Harry’s eyes widened in delight as they were ushered to a table near one of the windows. Tom ordered a pot of tea for the two of them, and then passed the menu to Harry, who browsed it eagerly. He felt a little bad knowing that Tom was spending yet more money on him, but he had already made up his mind to pay Tom back one way or another. Either he would find a job, or perhaps craft some items for Tom. The man had such a simple crown for his hair, and wore no accessories beyond his storage ring. How boring!

Pleased with his decision, Harry pointed out all the dishes he wanted to try, hoping that Tom wouldn’t comment on the fact that half of them were sweet enough to be dessert. Then he sipped his tea as he waited for the food, his feet tapping in his excitement.

Harry kept craning his neck back to see if their food was on its way, while Tom merely stared out the window. The inn was fairly busy, but Harry couldn’t see any other cultivators around. He and Tom were receiving a few awed looks from the regular civilians and Harry wasn’t quite sure what to feel about that, though Tom seemed used to it, as he simply ignored them.

So Harry did his best to ignore them as well, only perking up when a server came around laden with dishes. Harry sat up straight, wide eyes fixated on the food as it was placed down. He beamed his thank you at the server who blushed and stuttered a reply before fleeing. Then Harry grabbed his chopsticks and began loading up his plate. Noticing that Tom still hadn’t moved, he began putting food on the man’s plate as well.

“It’s too much for me to eat by myself,” Harry said. He knew that Tom didn’t need to eat but the dishes smelled too good not to be tasted! Vaguely in the background he could hear the inkeep’s delighted voice.

‘ _Yes, yes, of course, we would be most happy to serve such honourable cultivators. Ah, in fact some of your fellow cultivators are here as well!_ ’

Harry didn’t pay much attention to it, busy as he was piling food up on his plate until it resembled a small mountain. Tom was watching him with a raised brow, but the man said nothing, simply taking a bite of the food that Harry had given him.

Finally satisfied with the variety of choices in front of him, Harry took a piece of fried vegetable covered in a sweet smelling sauce and lifted it to his lips. He was about to take a bite when he smelled fire and feather, and a flutter of silk brushed his shoulder.

“Oh, but if it isn’t Peak Master Riddle,” a light, airy voice sounded from above Harry.

He glanced up to see a beautiful woman cupping her hands in a bow to Tom, clear blue eyes sparkling in the evening light, the corners of her lips quirked upwards. Behind her were a few other cultivators, similarly bowing in gentle sweeps of fluttering silk. Tom said nothing in reply, but the woman did not seem offended. She didn’t even seem to wait for an answer before turning her attention to Harry.

She studied him curiously and then her smile widened. She leaned down until their noses were practically touching. “And who is this? My, how cute!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: In fact, I'm very poor. I have less money than the beggar on the street. (I saw that he had 2 copper coins)
> 
> Tom: In fact, I'm very rich. I can afford to buy you everything you want. (So stay with me)

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, two children paused. Their eyes met across a vast expanse of cloud. 
> 
> Once upon a time, a child smiled.


End file.
